Compassion Comes In All Places
by IAMGERMANANDSTUFF
Summary: A young boy named Rathmir is chosen to be the kingdom of Maladock's next sacrifice. They give one every two years to appease the mighty dragon king and his cohorts. Rathmir Compassion is sucked into a brand a new world, with no field guide.
1. Childhood

**A/N: **HELLO THERE GUYS! I JUST GOT A NEW LAPTOP! WOOT! Also, I am going to be rewriting CCIAP. I think that it really needs more meat to it! So, I'll take down the other one, and start putting this one up instead! I hope you guys don't mind, but this one will be better than the other one! :D

**DISCLAIMER: **Hey, wait - this is mine. I don't need one of these! Sweet! :)

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**Compassion Comes In All Places**

*****Chapter 1*****

**Childhood**

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Rathmir's family was dying. The Scarlet Fever had swept through the kingdom of Maladock like wildfire. Rathmir was the youngest of the Compassion family. He was only 3. He didn't know what was going on, and he certainly didn't know why his family members wouldn't let him his mother and father. Eventually, there was no one to stop him. They had all contracted the sickness. All of them except for him. His mother was a mage and had cast a spell on him. It was full of her love, which was the strongest protective magic imaginable. But sadly, when she had cast it, she was too weak to cast it on any other family member. She was sick when she had cast it. Her husband, and her family had understood.

Rathmir pushed open the door to his parents quarters,

"Mama? Papa?" he called quietly, for it was early in the morning and they were probably asleep. The sight that met him made bile rise in his throat. The smell as well. Most of his family was lying there, dead or near it. He dropped onto all fours and wretched up the contents of his stomach. Once he had, he sat up and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his tunic. "Mama? Papa? Auntie? Uncle? Gramma? Grampa?" he asked, running around and shaking the collective family members. His hands were covered in filth. Both in his own vomit and his family members rotting remains. He sat down in front of his mother and father's bed, leaning against the board at the end. He pulled his knees up to his chest and buried his face in them. He began to sob. They were heavy sobs, that wracked his entire body. He had no idea what he was going to do now. He was 3, but he was sensible. Rathmir knew that his family was dead. All of them. As it was Maladockian tradition for both the eldest son's family and his wife's family to live under the same roof.

Rathmir stayed for several days before the small became too much. He was small, but with enough effort, he had dug enough ditches behind the small cottage to hold funerals for his loved ones. He slowly dragged out their corpses one by one, until eventually all of them were buried. He went to the forest and gather the most beautiful flowers he could find, as well as some wood planks for markers. He carved their names with the knife his father had given him for his birthday that year. He didn't know their real names of course, so he inscribed what he knew them by upon the random pieces of wood he had gathered.

After the grave markers were set and the flowers had been laid, he gathered his few possessions and a bit of food. Rathmir left his home, and his family behind. It was hard for him to do, considering that was only place he knew. Other than a few spots in the forest and also the village market. All the while the life of the village went on around him as if nothing had happened to the poor silver haired boy. They had their own problems to worry about after all. So, Rathmir plugged on, deep into the forest he went. He eventually came across a small hollow. It was sheltered by the trees and there was a small abandoned hut there. He pushed open the creaky door slightly and then all the way when he found no one inside.

Despite the fact that he was young, he had learned much. He knew how to cook, maybe 3 different kinds of meals. He could start a fire and braid his hair. He could keep a place clean and wash himself. He could also hunt and kill rabbits and such, as his father had taught him. He took out his father's knife and looked at his reflection in it. He looked a practical mess. Rathmir's hair was askew and he had dark circles under his eyes. Everything about his appearance screamed disheveled.

He sighed and sunk down onto the dirt floor. There was a hole in the roof, so light and seedlings had made their way in. Rathmir curled up in a patch of springy grass, using his small pack for a pillow. Things had gone so wrong, so fast. In only a month his entire life had been turned upside down. He let out a small yawn and settled into a dreamless sleep. Hopefully tonight, he wouldn't dream of his family.


	2. The Sacrifice

**A/N: **Gosh, sorry I'm so slow with this! :P I promise you, I am trying, but school starts in another 6 weeks and my mum's up my butt about it. BLEGH. Anywho~ I'm working on this some more, HUZZAH!

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**Compassion Comes in All Places**

*****Chapter 2*****

**The Sacrifice**

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Rathmir sighed, another day in the stables. Yes, that's right. He was working in the stables. Not only the stables, however, but the king's stables. The king of Maladock! It was an honor, really. But he sincerely hated his job. He always did what he was told, even though he was 19. Most boys his age would be out courting women and getting cool jobs as knights and craftsmen.

The silver haired boy still worked tirelessly at his job. He wouldn't complain; the pay was good. Plus, he lived on the grounds and didn't have to pay board because of his predicament. The stable master had been kind enough to let him live there if he worked twice as much as the other boys and would not receive a knighthood at the end of it all. He had the taken the deal at the age of 10, thinking it was a wonderful idea. Now, he knew better; knew he had been swindled. But he would live. So what if he wasn't a knight? They were always the first ones killed whenever there was a dragon raid.

Ah, yes, that reminds me. The dragon raid were increasing in number. Everyone knew it was because the king had not yet selected a sacrifice. You see, every two years a sacrifice would be made to the king of the dragons. If he accepted it, there would be peace in the land, if not - well, I have a feeling that doesn't take much imagination. Luckily, he hadn't turned down a sacrifice yet. But Rathmir was getting anxious; the horses were his source of income. Dragons loved horse meat, it was a known fact throughout the kingdom.

The king had better hurry up and choose or else Rathmir might lose his job. There was no way he could stave off a dragon raid all on his own. Since, usually he was the only one at the stables anyway. He kicked a rock and picked up his shovel. The stalls needed mucking, especially Orion's stall. He was the king's horse, but gods, he could dirty a stall faster than all the other horses combined. As he was on his way to said stall, two guards rounded the corner and seized each of his arms, causing him to drop his shovel. The horses spooked at the loud noise and began to stomp and clomp in their stalls.

Rathmir immediately began to struggle, thinking these were rouge bandits. When he stopped to catch his breath, it was not a bandit clan seal, but the kings emblem of a fire breathing dragon upon their chests.

"Why do you restrain me?!" He cried out in frustration, the fear beginning to creep into his voice. When the guards said nothing, but began to drag him out of the stables and through the main court yard, it only caused the flower of his panic in his chest to bloom more quickly. When the guards came to a stop, they were standing before the great oaken doors of the king's court room. Rathmir was very clammy by now, and he was certainly very pale as well.

"The royal guards; Kimil and Romik reporting for duty, Your Highness. We have come with the sacrifice." The guard on his right announced. It had sounded very official and well planned. A dreary 'enter' reached Rathmir's slightly pointed ears as the doors swung open with a loud creak. He looked up at the mighty black marble throne with blue eyes wide with terror.

The king was a man in his mid - 40's. He had long black hair, dappled with streaks of grey. It looked a lot like Orion's mane, Rathmir mused silently to himself. You could easily tell the king was well, king. He had a commanding air about him. He had a square jaw, which was covered in stubble at all times. He had striking green eyes that seemed to be able to bore into a man's soul with a single glance.

Now, said man sat before them, looking nonchalant in his big black throne.

"The sacrifice, eh? How old?" he asked, as if this was light business at a dinner party. The guard on his left visibly stiffened,

"19, my King." he said loudly enough for the king to hear. The black haired man smiled widely,

"Oh, the dragon king will find this year's sacrifice satisfying indeed. How tall is she?" Rathmir flushed, though he was often called one. He looked like a girl after all. His silver hair, when braided, still almost dragged on the ground, and he was very slender as well. He had wide hips like woman too. The guard on his left snorted,

"Your Highness, he is a lad." He stated, trying not to laugh, though the smile was upon his lips. The king's eyes widened slightly,

"Oh, how tall is _he_ then?" he asked. The guard on the right spoke up this time,

"I would say around 5 feet, My King." Rathmir lowered his head, he was the shortest boy in the stables, and practically the entire castle.

"Go get him cleaned up." The king suddenly snapped. "We will have the ceremony at sunset." The guards simply bowed and murmured 'yessir' before dragging Rathmir out of the court room and down a series of confusing corridors. All he could now would be to let it happen. Sadly, he knew what his fate was, and that it was surely sealed.

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**_To be_**_ Continued..._


End file.
